Defying Gods
by fayegrove
Summary: The two greatest warlords of the era clash in a battle for supremacy, choreographed by the god of mischief, Loki. Only one person is able to see through the scheming: Idunn, daughter of Hrókr. Refusing to accept war, constrained by the position her gender dictates, Idunn is faced with the insurmountable challenge of finding peace in a world where blood is power. AU. NEW PROLOGUE.


_A/N: **Redid a major plot point of this prologue, and I think I prefer it this way now.**_

_This is the prologue to a story I started just after the movie Thor came out. Loki immediately captivated me and I had this urge to begin a darker, more adult story weaving his trickery with the ancient races of humans who did believe so devoutly in the gods. In the end I shelved it, though, and went through two years of writer's block. Now that my muse has resurfaced I have found myself itching to continue this particular story. If there is interest, I will do so. I might even if there isn't because Loki is just that awesome and I love to write him._

_Do not read if violence offends you in any way. You have been warned. :)_

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Gusts of icy night air whipped at the tent canvas, sending chills down Hulda's spine in spite of the thick, fur coverlet she was wrapped in. More than anything she wished Galmr were beside her. She wished this not out of any love or affection for the warrior, but because he was a hairy, burly man and always kept her warm when it was this deep in winter. The downy pallet that lay on ground level did make it easier to maintain warmth but without her master to add his considerable bulk, Hulda found herself unable to sleep from the shivering.

The women she saw while travelling with Galmr as he and his men pillaged the villages of the Nordic forest often gave her looks of mingled pity and horror. Pity upon realizing she was the warlord's concubine, and horror upon realizing that she was quite content with her role. And why shouldn't she be? She was always guaranteed a safe, warm place to sleep and the best food to keep her nourished. She was showered with the many furs and treasures Galmr took from his victims; all she had to do was maintain her beauty and let him do whatever he wished to her. For the beast of a man that he was, this usually entailed more gentle lovemaking than she had ever experienced with men before him. Hulda always assumed that after hours, days, sometimes months of battle, Galmr simply wanted to feel the soft touches of a woman.

Still, there was no love between them. They were a union of convenience and both were content with the arrangement. Since Galmr had captured Hulda when she was but seventeen and she had stayed by his side for these eight years past, there was a comfort they found in each other that even she could not explain fully. It was on nights like the present—where ice made the ground outside slick and the bitter wind tore mercilessly at the tent that she missed the man she'd become used to after so many years. She almost found herself wishing that he would stop conquering the Nordic lands and settle down with her in one of his many conquered castles. Maybe have a few children to pass on his name and riches to. The thought of him releasing her, however, never crossed her mind.

An unfamiliar sound snapped Hulda out of her sleepy musings. Instinct sent adrenaline coursing through her limbs, alerting her instantly to the potential danger that came with being the primary concubine of one of the region's most feared warlords. Enemies often stole into their camp at night, attempting to steal goods or sometimes even kill Galmr and his men. They had never made it as far as Galmr's tent before being torn down by his mens' swords, but she knew better than to hope for the best. The noise disappeared as soon as she'd noticed it, leaving Hulda unsure of what had roused her from her dreamlike state. Even so Hulda snaked out a thin, pale hand from under the fur blanket and gripped the dagger that lay beside her on the ground. She clutched it to her chest, feigning sleep.

The flap to the tent flung aside, instantly filling it with the icy gales from outside. Hulda allowed herself the appearance of an unconscious whimper and fidget in the bed, but her eyes remained closed and her breathing steady. Footsteps approached the bed, the sound vaguely familiar but the gait telling her that the person approaching was a stranger. The heavy thud of boots told her they belonged to a man. Her fingers gripped the dagger handle, waiting, her heart pounding in fear.

Without warning the blanket was ripped off of her and the exposed parts of her skin were assailed by the freezing temperature. Her eyes shot open and she bolted upright, dagger poised to strike the stranger until she froze mid-thrust, shock etched on her face. There stood Galmr, his form just visible in the dim moonlight. She dropped the dagger and put her hand over her heart, gasping for air.

"Galmr! You frightened me, what are you doing here? I thought you weren't supposed to return for another two weeks!" Her master merely stood there, watching her. Hulda frowned and her fingers twitched towards the dagger that now lay beside her legs. "Galmr? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing is wrong. We went to make peace with Hrókr but his village had taken ill so we have returned for now." The voice belonged to Galmr but something about it seemed off. Usually his voice boomed with the commanding aura that was born from being a leader most of his life. But tonight he sounded quiet, almost amused. As if he was enjoying some private joke. "I rode here on horseback ahead of the men. I had to see you."

As he spoke Galmr's knee moved onto the bed beside her. She flinched and then silently berated herself. Galmr had taken her on nights where she had much more reason to fear him, but something about his demeanor put her on edge. Again her fingers subconsciously twitched in the direction of her dagger.

"Galmr, I'm on my cycle," she lied. Usually he showed respect for her privacy during her moon time but tonight he just grinned.

"I don't mind a little blood."

Hulda's heart began to pound in earnest as he crawled on top of her. Her mind raced with any number of possible reasons for his strange actions, each as unlikely as the next. Sometimes after a particularly rough battle he would be grim or still in the mindset of slaughter, which made him more insistent but never forceful. Other times he was furious if something had gone wrong and would be rougher with her than usual in his rage, but if she'd protested he'd become gentle once more. She knew him, and had long since accepted these extremes as part of her role as his woman. She always calmed him down in the end with her arms around his neck, a few light kisses to his forehead. Tonight, however… there was something wrong about him, and it made her nervous.

"No, Galmr. You've had a tiring week, please let's just go to sleep for now."

With lightning speed his giant hand struck the side of her face hard enough so that she tasted warm, salty blood pour into her mouth from where she'd bitten her tongue. The world spun around her for a few seconds and when her eyes managed to refocus on Galmr's eyes, she saw only coldness in them. His lips were stretched in a smirk that made true fear course through her. She spat the blood in his face and grabbed the dagger, pressing it to his chest. Her master showed no signs of hesitation; his only reaction was to grin more broadly.

"Don't think I won't use this, Galmr. What's happened to you?"

Before she could even react he had grabbed her wrist and pinned it down over her head, immediately followed by the other wrist. He squeezed them until she reflexively dropped her dagger, which fell with a thump to the dirt floor. She kicked out at him but he maneuvered himself deftly between her legs and began to grind his pelvis into hers. When she felt him grow hard against her she opened her mouth and screamed. He didn't attempt to silence her. Instead he freed his right hand and reached down between their bodies, unfastening his pants.

"Galmr, please! Let me go, you're hurting m-" her words were extinguished by his hand striking her across the face once again.

"Whores don't have the option to refuse," he spat as he unfastened his pants.

Hulda lay there in terror, waiting for the moment when he would force himself inside of her but the moment never came. They seemed strangely frozen in place, Galmr hovering on top of Hulda while positioned between her legs, as if he were waiting for a moment she was not aware of. After a few seconds, a faint yelling was audible from outside the tent.

"Look at me."

The voice that spoke was so exceedingly different from Galmr's that she obeyed without question. A fresh surge of terror filled her when she realized Galmr's eyes were an unfamiliar, startling emerald green, not the deep brown that matched his chestnut hair and beard so perfectly: his features were changing before her very eyes. Her mouth opened in a cry that was silenced by his mouth upon hers. A commotion was forming in the distance but she was unable to yell for help while her attacker's mouth held hers captive. Within seconds the flap was flung open, followed by shouts of shock and rage. The strange man pulled his face away and grinned down at her. A cavernous silence filled the tent as Hulda tried to peer around her attacker to see if the intruders were friend or foe.

Moonlight streaming across his back, Galmr stood in the flap of the tent, his eyes wide with horror. He still wore his helmet, one hand holding the sword that dripped blood onto the dirt. The man on top of her sat upright, and Hulda realized with terror that the man on top of her was no longer Galmr. Her very sense of reality seemed to be slipping from her grasp as she took in the long, red hair and green eyes that she knew belonged to Galmr's one rival in the region: Hrókr. The possibility seemed absurd since just a few moments ago it had been Galmr who was manhandling her, yet there he stood in the doorway, his eyes locked on this man's body pressed against hers. Galmr's shock quickly turned to rage. The sight of his contorted face pulled Hulda out of her stunned disbelief and she called out to him in desperation.

"Galmr he's going to rape me!"

Hrókr slid out from between Hulda's legs and pulled himself to his feet, re-fastening his pants with great care as he approached the paralyzed Galmr. She heard a voice unfamiliar from the one that had spoken to her just moments prior, though its tone was equally as mocking.

"Rape? Hardly. She invited me here. Ask your guards, no one saw me come because your concubine snuck me into your very tent. Into your very bed." His voice was barely above a whisper yet Hulda could hear every word, and she knew that nothing she said now could make Galmr believe in her innocence. She stared at the back of the man who had assailed her, trembling, before lunging off the bed and grabbing her dagger. As she ran across the room to slice into Hrókr's back, Galmr pulled his own dagger from its sheath and lunged for Hrókr's chest. As if anticipating this move, Hrókr leapt aside with unnatural speed at the last second. Hulda stopped mid-stride and glanced down in surprise at the dagger that stuck out, not of Hrókr's chest, but of her own neck. She crumpled to the ground, blood spurting out of both the wound and her gaping mouth.

Galmr roared and fell to his knees beside her, wrapping her slight frame in his burly arms. Tears spilled out of his eyes, wetting his beard as he tried in vain to staunch the fatal wounds in Hulda's neck. Unable to say anything, Hulda took Galmr's hand and pressed it to her heart. She needed him to know that she loved him, and that she would never have betrayed him, but her eyes only found his confusion and pain. Then Hulda was spluttering, choking on the blood filling her lungs. After a moment she finally went still, her eyes wide and still glassy from tears.

For a few seconds Galmr could only kneel there, staring into the blank eyes of the only person he had ever cared for, ever loved, before the muscles in his face went hard and the tears stopped falling. He pulled the dagger out of her neck and gently laid her body to the ground, then leapt to his feet. Turning back to the tent entrance he realized that Hrókr had fled. Fury overtook every fiber of his being and overpowered his brain so that Galmr was racing out of the tent, yelling Hrókr's name into the still-empty camp. The soldiers, who had stood outside the tent at his command, waiting, chased after him. When they reached the edge of the camp and he realized that Hrókr had gotten away, Galmr roared in a blind rage and turned on the first soldier he saw, eviscerating him with the dagger that still bore Hulda's blood. He panted, staring down at the disemboweled corpse of his warrior for a few, silent seconds before turning his gaze towards the edge of the camp.

"This means war, Hrókr! Do you hear me? I will kill you with my bare hands for this!" he bellowed into the silence, his booming voice echoing in the dark forest. Then he turned back to his men, who watched him not with their usual appreciative reverence but now with unease at the madness staring back at them. "Prepare yourselves, we leave at down for Hrókr's village."

As the camp burst into life, a shadowy figure watched silently from the trees. Long, red hair darkened to black and, though his rugged, masculine features sharpened and became angular the eyes remained the same, sparkling green. They watched Galmr retreat into the tent where his beloved woman lay, no doubt already cooling to his touch. The wind tossed a black cape around his tall, lean frame but he showed no signs of being chilled. The corner of his lips pulled up into a satisfied smirk before Loki, the god of mischief, vanished from Galmr's forest and reappeared at the edge of the camp belonging to the warlord called Hrókr, ready for the show to begin.


End file.
